Océane* did not hear her roommate enter the bathroom. She was washing her hair at the sink. When she turned around, he was there, in front of her. The crazy look. Completely naked.
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“He tried to kill me. He put my head under water for several seconds. He dragged her into the bedroom and raped her. Océane screamed, screamed. A passerby heard her screams and alerted the police.
Éric* fled, naked, in his truck. The police ended up catching him in another town, two hours away.
Released under strict conditions – in particular that of not communicating with Océane – Éric assaulted another woman. Then another. Then another again: a stranger, in a park, who managed to escape.
It was only after this fourth assault that Eric was put out of harm’s way. Well almost. Because even in the shade it is still dark. And justice does nothing to prevent it. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Éric took it for more than five years. His name is on the sex offender registry for life. But, from the bottom of his cell, he fights so that his name is also registered elsewhere: on the birth certificate of the child that Océane gave birth to, nine months after his rape.
Océane was only 18 when Éric raped her. For weeks, she remained cloistered at home, in shock. “I didn’t move, I didn’t want to do anything anymore. »
Finding out she was pregnant gave her back her will to live. “It’s thanks to my son that I’m still here. I wouldn’t have been able to overcome that. Truly not. »
When her boy was born, Océane was determined to forget the way he had been conceived.
Determined to bury this horror story deep in her memory, forever. She clung to the idea that maybe Eric wasn’t the father after all. “In my head, I said to myself: I will move on. »
But here it is: she can’t move on.
A few months ago, she received a letter from a lawyer: Eric demanded that the baby be subjected to a DNA test in order to prove that he was indeed the father. For Océane, this request was not only revolting, it was terrifying. Yet nothing in the law could prevent her rapist from making it.
Devastated, Océane realized that she had no choice: justice forced her to face her executioner again in a court room. Civilian this time.
***
Justice is blind, they say. Unfortunately, Océane is not. When she saw Eric appear on the big screen in the courtroom, she burst into tears. “It hurt me a lot to see him. »
In describing the rape, the lawyers spoke of “unprotected sex”. Technically, they were right. But only technically. What Océane had experienced had nothing to do with a “relationship”.
The knotted belly, Océane advanced to the bar of the witnesses. “The first question I was asked was my name and my address. I didn’t give my address, because I didn’t want him to know where I live. If he finds out, when he gets out of prison, he’ll come see me. He won’t ask permission. »
Océane is terribly afraid of Eric. Above all, she fears that he will kidnap her little man, one day, after school. She prepares to flee, as far as possible. “There is a bag ready in my wardrobe, if I ever have to leave overnight. »
Océane told all this to the Court. She said she refused to have her rapist involved in her life and that of her child. No way. Never.
But it turns out that justice isn’t just blind; she’s deaf, too.
“In this case, the evidence confirms that a sexual relationship, although not consensual, took place between Mrs. and Mr., at the time of conception. This is an established fact, ”wrote Superior Court Judge Isabelle Germain in a decision rendered last April.
“Although the Tribunal is very sensitive to the fear expressed by Madame with regard to the plaintiff following the sexual assault suffered, the search for the truth is essential. »
For example, in the name of the child’s right to know his or her origins, a Quebec court this spring ordered that a two-year-old toddler be subjected to a DNA test — and that the results be transmitted to the rapist. from his mother.
Contrary to what one might think, Judge Germain did not err; it kept to what is prescribed by the Civil Code of Quebec. “In the current state of the law, this decision is entirely in accordance with the rules”, assures Dominique Goubau, lawyer and professor of family law at Laval University.
PHOTO FROM THE LAVAL UNIVERSITY WEBSITE
Dominique Goubau, lawyer and professor of family law at Laval University
Lawyer Suzanne Zaccour, author of The factory of rape and head of feminist law reform for the National Association of Women and Law, makes the same observation: “There is nothing in the law that prevents parentage from being established if the child was conceived during a sexual assault. »
It is this, more than the judgment itself, which is aberrant. That’s what needs to be changed.
It’s been done in the United States, where 32,000 American women become pregnant each year as a result of rape — and a third of them decide to keep the baby. For decades, abusers there have been able to claim paternity after the crime. But in 2015, Barack Obama signed the Rape Survivor Child Actwhich encourages states to strip an abuser of parental rights when there is “clear and convincing evidence” that the child was born of the rape.
Since then, all states, except two, have adopted more or less severe laws in this area. So much so that Quebec finds itself today on the same legal plane as Alabama, where nothing prevents a rapist from claiming his paternity, even if he was convicted of the rape during which the child was conceived.
In Quebec, the courts give precedence to the child’s right to know his or her origins. “The circumstances of the conception are not taken into consideration in the request for a genetic test order, explains Ms.e Goubau. The law should provide for it. In the current state of the law, this is not possible. »
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, LA PRESSE ARCHIVES
Me Suzanne Zaccour, author of The factory of rape and Head of Feminist Law Reform for the National Association of Women and the Law
The problem is that we have a right which says that what happens to the mother is not really important. This right was drafted solely on the basis of the interest of the child.
Me Suzanne Zacour
In this case, the question seriously arises: is it in the interest of Océane’s son to have a father who is a rapist, recidivist, dangerous offender? Is it in his interest to even know?
That kid didn’t ask for anything. It is Éric who tries to impose himself, recognizes Me Goubau, who would be “rather favorable” to a law that would prohibit a man convicted of rape from initiating proceedings to establish a relationship with the child born of this aggression.
Me Zaccour is of the opinion that this law should cast a wider net. Because rape convictions are rare. And because things are not always as brutally clear as in the story of Océane. “Suppose that, in a couple, there is a consensual relationship one day and a rape the next. Does it really matter which of the two relationships led to the conception of the child? »
Océane was shaking in all her limbs at the genetic screening clinic. Everyone around her recognized the absurdity of the situation. Even the employee who performed the DNA test on her boy had tears in her eyes.
The results came later: her rapist was indeed the father of her child. For Océane, that means the nightmare continues. “I’m not done with him yet. »
“He is now asking to change my boy’s surname [pour lui donner le sien]. He wants visitation rights. He wants many things. He, in his head, he wants to start a family with me…”
Of course, confirmation of the parentage does not mean that Eric will get all of this. Only, it will force Océane to face her attacker, once again, in court. With all the traumatic consequences that entails. “I’m trying to get over this, but it won’t end…”
It’s absurd. It’s cruel. But in Quebec, it’s the law.
*The Press has changed the first names of the persons involved since it is prohibited to identify the parties to civil proceedings in family matters and in order to protect the identity of the victim and the child.